Reflections: 12 Stories of the Christmas Season
by CheshireCity
Summary: A collection of short Christmas stories told by various characters over the years. Share the season with Ed, Al, Roy, Maes, and Riza as they reflect on childhood and what got them through later struggles. Later Alfons and Envy. Rated for language.
1. Start Note

**BEFORE YOU READ - Read this so that confusion is as minimal as possible.**

Please first note that the POV changes every chapter, and that every chapter is a short story from a different year and place. Despite this, the 'storyline' still progresses in a consecutive, logical order. The year and location will be provided for you at the beginning of each chapter. I tried to give each character a distinctive voice, but it can be hard to change your writing style to a certain extent. If it's too hard to understand the POV change, request it, and I will add notes to each chapter explaining who is talking. ^^

Secondly, I felt it necessary to provide you dear readers with the birthdays that I assigned for each of the characters, as age is mentioned with some frequency.

_Edward Elric - October 11, 1899_

_Alphonse Elric - January 13, 1901_

I am aware that these days there is speculation that Al was born in 1900, but I'm giving Trisha and Hoenheim the benefit of the doubt that they waited just a little. Because of these dates, however, it looks like Ed is two years older than his brother. That is because they are (here, anyway) only a year and three months apart. At Christmas, Ed will have just turned a year older and his brother is only a few weeks from being a year older as well.

_Roy Mustang - June 8, 1891_

_Maes Hughes - May 4, 1887_

_Riza Hawkeye - July 18, 1892_

_Jean Havoc - April 22, 1985_

_Winry Rockbell - November 13, 1899_

_Alfons Heiderich - January 13, 1906_

Seeing as Alfons is our world's version of Alphonse, I gave them the same birthday, with the year difference fixed so that things still ran smoothly for Shamballa timelines.

Last thing to note is that I changed Trisha Elric's deathdate. Instead of 1904, it is set at 1906. I did this because the anime certainly failed at dates. They state that Edward was born in 1899, that his mother died in 1904, and somehow he's still able to be eight years old and bring her alchemically made toy horses. So I settled for her death occurring when he was seven instead.

Envy and Lust will also appear, but because they are eighty bazillion years old, they don't get birthdays! 8D (Mainly because they probably can't even remember their _own_ birthdays.)

**Now, because LOATHES chapters for just author's notes, here is a super short, comical story:**

The wind wailed outside the office windows, rattling them with vicious pleasure. Outside it was bleak with naked trees and heavy, woolen clouds. Colonel Mustang sighed audibly for the hundredth time that day, massaging his temples with a bare hand. Rainy days were never his strong suit whether he was fighting or not. "Sir, if you sigh one more time, I swear you'll implode." Riza Hawkeye commented from the corner, redoing her blonde up-do.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant! It's just all of this paperwork!" he cried, reclining slightly in his seat.

"_Any_ work." Havoc muttered from the other end of the work. Breda snickered and looked back at his boss, awaiting the retaliation.

"What was that, _Second _Lieutenant?" the Flame Alchemist challenged.

"Oh, nothing sir. Nothing that Ms. Hawkeye wouldn't agree with anyway." the other man smirked around his cigarette.

"Oh now _that's_ lo- "

"U-uhm, excuse me." a voice called timidly from the front door. All eyes turned to Sergeant Fuery. He sneezed and wrapped his wet coat around himself. "Uh, Colonel, there's something for you to see, sir."

"What is it, Sergeant? Do you have news from Major Armstrong?" Roy asked, all-business once more. He stood promptly and moved over to the door (and away from his paperwork).

"Uh, no, Sir. It's not the Major. I uhm… kinda found something." the smaller man admitted nervously.

"Found?" Roy questioned, growing increasingly worried.

"Well…" Fuery stepped forward to admit his find into the room. "She was shaking and alone, sir. And I think she's about due, I just couldn't leave her on her own. Please don't turn her out, sir!" he said in a rush, flushing from his forwardness. The Colonel and his team looked at the soppy blonde mop huddled and dripping on the office floor.

"Is that… a _dog_, Sergeant Fuery?" the Colonel cautioned as the animal wagged it's tail.

"A pregnant one, sir." Breda goaded.

"Well then of course she can stay!" Roy boomed, suddenly enthused.

"Trust you to find a dog, Kain." Havoc grinned from his chair. "You're getting to be like Al Elric with his cats."

"And trust _you_ to recall trivial facts." Falman sighed, brushing his shock of grey hair back. "Come on, sir, I'll help you find some towels." The Colonel was quick to follow, practically bounding after him.

"He's just escaping his work, isn't he?" The First Lieutenant sighed. "You." she threatened, pointing an accusing finger at the young Sergeant. "As punishment for helping the Colonel evade his duties, you get to stay after-time to help him finish his papers, got it?" Fuery nodded meekly before shrugging off his coat, trying to use it to warm the shivering dog.

"Strange though, isn't it?" Breda motioned. "For a dog to be preggo in the winter. Don't they have a mating season like other animals? I thought puppies only came in the spring?"

"Well why do you think everyone calls the Colonel a dog?" Havoc laughed, putting out his cigarette and ruffling the dog's soggy ears. "Because he can do it at any ti- "

"We're back!" Roy called, arms full of military blankets. Falman shot him a bemused look and began arranging a dog bed in a corner of the office. He beckoned the female over and she laid down gratefully, panting hard from the beginning of her labor. The team gathered around, literally pulling up chairs to await the arrival of the newborns. An hour later, six little miracles were gathered around their mother, pawing for milk and squirming in for warm. Riza sat beside the new mother, toweling off the puppies one by one.

"Colonel?" she frowned, brushing the tiny coats with a fingertip. "It's kind of weird, don't you think?"

"I'm pretty sure they normally come that small." Roy assured her.

"Not that, sir. That's adorable." Breda grinned.

"She means their coat, I believe. The color of them." Falman interjected.

"This is a golden dog, but these puppies are black and white." The First Lieutenant observed. "I wonder just where these guys came from?" It was at that opportune moment that Black Hayate took the leisure of strolling into the room, settling happily beside his new mate.

Thus, the Black Hayate Team was born. And Colonel Mustang was never happier.


	2. A State of Alchemy

**As a reminder, the POV will change from chapter to chapter. This is not a complete story but a compliation of short stories. The following chapter is from van Hoenheim's perspective.**

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**1st Christmas**

1900 - Risembool

_A State of Alchemy_

I had decorated the house with practiced ease. How many times had I done this already? Too many to count, that was for sure. Most times I had been alone, and on occasion with my first 'children', the homunculi. The downside of that being that they didn't all get along very well, same as all siblings, the major difference being that they would _literally_ try and kill each other, rather than that normal, metaphorical way. As amusing as that could be - IE. Envy chasing after people with sharp pointy objects or feeding Gluttony pounds of soap so he foamed bubbles at the mouth - there was really only so many times I could threaten to "turn this car around" before it got annoying. Except, of course, for the fact that I didn't say it quite that way. Chiefly because cars didn't exist way back when, which really throws a wrench into that phrase. Pity.

But between caring for my sons and helping to clean and weed, I had managed to surprise even my lovely wife. Garlands of ribbons had been wrapped around the banister, crimson bows affixed to nails upon which pictures were hung. Greenery festooned with pinecones and small red berries draped on every ledge and counter, and boughs of holly, fir, and mistletoe were hung in each doorway. Snowflakes had long since dusted the windowpanes and accompanying it was a long, white taper, it's flickering light beckoning any and all inside. Wreaths upon doors, bowls of potpourri and nuts upon tables, and a plethora of colored tinsel had utterly choked the house with Christmas cheer. Of course, alchemy sort of helped in the manner. Sort of a lot, actually.

Despite all of this, my favorite decorations were the simplest. Edward's drawings posted around the stairwell - at twenty-six months they were no more than colorful scribbles, but seeing his first attempts at making hearts, snowflakes, and people was endearing. He had Trisha to thank for that, taking his little hand and tracing patterns over the paper. He had been born blind and I was still wracking my brains trying to think of the precise way to fix it. I certainly had the resources to, it was just a matter of organizing all of the components just so. The poor kid would probably develop a fear of the dark or being alone once he regained his sight, but we could cross those bridges once we came to them. In the meantime I would just enjoy watching him run into walls.

I smiled as I ran my fingertips along the paper, finding an occasional drawing by Alphonse that truly was no more than a scribble. Trisha had tried to teach him to draw shapes, but his motor skills just weren't quite ready for that. He'd learn in time. At the end of the stairs, on the far wall was a beautiful illustration she had done of our boys. They sat next to each other; Al in his kitty pajamas and Ed with his beloved rubber duck that I had alchemized to make squeak. Looking at them, I wondered vaguely what they would grow up to look like. If they'd keep their hair longer like mine, or if they'd keep it cropped short. If they'd learn alchemy. If I'd let them. I prayed that I would be allowed to find out, that Homunculus would leave me be. I loved my family dearly, but my little friend from the flask would have none of it. He had never let me stay in one place for very long, after all. Only a handful of years at a time. But my glum thoughts were interrupted by the object of my affection.

"Van?" she peeked around the corner, pale skin dusted pink from working in the kitchen. Her usual apron wrapped around her small form, this time covering a wine red sweater and a long, gray suede skirt. With her hair ungathered and cascading down one shoulder, she was truly a sight to behold. I smiled, pacing over to her and scooping her up in my arms.

"Yes darling?"

She giggled and placed her hands on my chest. "It's Christmas _Eve_, dear." she admonished lightly. "Shouldn't you be watching the boys so I can set up the tree? We didn't get to last year seeing as I was sick - "

"Edward was only a couple months old, he wouldn't have remembered."

" - and it is their first Christmas together."

"Maybe we should do this the foreign way and decorate together."

"I want to do it right this year." there was a set determination in her eyes. The very same look our boys got when they were bound to succeed at something. I smiled fondly and kissed her.

"All right darling, I'll call the boys down. We'll play in the sheep pen. Holler if you need anything."

"Worry-wart." she laughed, already evading my grasp and wandering back into the kitchen. I watched her go, the door swinging closed behind her.

"Meine kleine Hausfrau…" I muttered, turning back to the stairway. "Boooys!" I called. "Let's go play in the sheep pen!" I heard them scramble around frantically and laughed, taking the stairs in twos as I made my way to their room. The 'sheep pen' was the room in the house nearest to the entryway. It had a big window that looked out into Risembool where hundreds of sheep would gather, looking no more than clusters of downy snow. The room itself was littered with play pens and toys, little stencilized sheep with pastel bows painted onto the walls. The boys' room was decorated in a similar manner - little farm animals parading around the perimeter.

Ed sat in the center of the room on the rug, gnawing absently on his rubber ducky. Alphonse rolled over in his crib, attempting to pull himself up by holding onto the rails. Precious. "Hey guys." I announced, letting Ed hear where I was. He immediately let go of his toy and started waving for me to pick him up. "One moment, kiddo." I replied, scooping Al out of his baby-cage and setting him on my hip. He cooed and patted at my chin, giggling when my beard tickled him. I nudged his plush rabbit at him at he clung to it, drooling a little on one floppy ear. Edward shrieked impatiently.

"Alright, alright!" I bent down to pick him up as well, brushing the hair from his eyes. He latched onto my shirt, quieting instantly. As I went down to the pen I could hear Trisha singing to herself. Ed perked up and looked toward the sound of her voice.

"Momma?" he asked.

"Mn hmn. Momma's planning a special surprise, so we have to wait patiently in here, okay?" I clarified, pulling the door shut behind us.

"Oh…" he pouted, face crumpled into a frown. I set he and his brother down, taking a seat beside them. Ed smashed his duck against his chest, making it squeak. Al giggled and rolled over to him, shoving his bunny in his brother's direction. Ed pawed at the plush toy then hugged on his brother. So cute.

"Want to play with farm animals?" I asked, pulling over a tub of wooden animals I had created in my spare time. I searched around and passed a miniature cow over to my eldest son. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the contours carefully. He then turned and showed it to his brother. "What animal is that?"

"Cow!" they chorused, Al's response sounded a little more like "Kaw!" I alerted them that they were correct.

"And what sound does a cow make?"

"Mooooooooo." Ed giggled.

"Very good! Now what's this one?" I handed him another figure. Again, he ran his little fingers across the wood before showing it to Alphonse.

"Katze!"

"Kiki!"

"Yes, a cat." I smiled. I'd have to remember to teach that one to Ed in English. "What sound does a kitty cat make?" The two paused, Ed making little mewling sounds while Al giggled out a purr. This game continued for a good hour until the bucket of animals was completely exhausted. The snow began to fall in fluffy drifts as I broke out the dreidel.

"This is a Jewish game." I prefaced.

"Jewish?" Ed asked.

"Yeah… Jewish people believe in Judaism. Uh… it's a type of religion, like Christians are a religious group." Sometimes simplifying things for children was much harder than I'd ever thought. Edward sat in silence for a while.

"Are we Jewish?" he asked, clearly confused.

"No, we're… Christians." I answered, a bit reluctantly. I wasn't really anything myself, but Trisha was a good Christian. She'd want our sons to be the same. "That's why we have Christmas and a tree."

"Jewish don't have a tree?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, no, but they have what's called a menorah. It's a big candleholder that holds nine candles. During Hanukkah one candle is lit each night for eight days. The dreidel is a game that they play."

"Game?" Edward brightened. I pulled Alphonse from the window seat and explained the game to them. One day they might understand the significance of it. I had begun to sense that things could get very nasty within the country, especially if my little friend from the flask was still looking for victims. For now it would help to teach them counting. The tolerance, hopefully, would come with it. Eventually I was able to sit back and daze off, Al acting as Ed's eyes, using the wooden animals in place of candy to bet with. The snow was coming down in pure white sheets now. It clung in clusters to the edges of the windowpane, illuminated by a single candle. So perfect.

"Edward! Alphonse!" my wife's voice floated across the house to us, and our children immediately perked up.

"Momma!" Alphonse cheered. Figured. It _was_ one of his first complete words after all. I helped to scoop the animal figurines back into their bucket, placing Al on my hip once more. Ed paused and clung to my pants, deciding to walk despite his disability. I petted his head proudly and led the boys to the dining room. Trisha stood in the center, flushed pink and smiling serenely, her hands clasped before her. The table was laid with good china dishes of cream and red, edged and embellished with gold leafing. Small red cups were placed for the boys while Trisha and I had fine crystal flutes. A beautiful golden pig was set in the center, surrounded by plates of chocolates, white sausage, rice pudding, and fruit and spice breads. The tree was positively glistening, alit with tiny candles whose flames reflected off of golden ornaments and silver and violet tinsel. Red candies and trains hung to its branches, the heady scent of cinnamon and fir filling the room.

Alphonse gaped and clapped excitedly, wriggling in my hold. I set him down beside his brother who was grinning broadly, finding contentment in his other senses. One day he'd be able to see his mother's efforts. I hoped that that day would be soon. The two made their way to the Christmas tree - Ed aiding his brother - gently removing wooden trains and animals from the bottom boughs and playing with them, the food momentarily forgotten. Trisha quietly moved to stand by me, resting her head on my shoulder. I petted her hair and watched our sons.

Already at so young of an age they had learned to look out for each other and to share. Alphonse helped Edward to grasp the world around him, and Ed protected his little brother and helped to teach him. They loved unconditionally, as most children do, but were particularly well-mannered and adoring of their mother and I. They drew us pictures and collected flowers in clumsy bundles for their mother. Trisha helped them to paint and bake cookies, and during the Spring Sheep Shearing Festival she taught them how to pick the best wool and how to milk goats. During the summer she taught them how to tell when vegetables were ready for picking and where the prettiest wildflowers grew. They pressed flowers, gathered leaves, carried clothes, and helped her with the cooking.

I looked down at my own hands. I did alchemy. I sat locked up in my study all the time, pouring over manuscripts and moldy textbooks. I used Reconstruction to make them toys and to turn branches into wreaths and decorations. All done in seconds with practiced simplicity. It was easier, I realized, but not as satisfying as the work that my family did every day. My gifts could be seen as no more than a passing fancy. The dinner laid out on the table beside me, the drawings lining the stairway just beyond, they were gifts that took effort and came from the heart. While alchemy had been my Bible as a bachelor, its glamour and appeal was fading before my eyes. What a fake. What could I physically do with my own two hands? When was the last time that I had actually tried to do things the hard way? All these hundreds of years I had been taking alchemy for granted, seeing nothing but my quest to end Homunculus. I had a family now. Responsibilities. Who knew how much longer I could afford to stay before _he _chased me off again, threatening their fragile human lives? I hoped that my boys could forgive me. I looked guiltily back at the alchemic toys they played with beneath the tree. Giving Trisha a kiss on the forehead, I went over and crouched next to them, placing a hand on their shoulders. "After dinner I'll show you how to make these for yourselves."

"With Alchemy?" Edward asked cutely.

"No." His expression fell. "With a knife, by whittling. You and Al can help me paint them and glue them together, okay? It'll be fun."

"Kiki?" Alphonse asked.

"Sure, we can make you a kitty." I said, rustling his baby-soft hair. "And a red train for your brother. How does that sound?" They chorused their agreement as I helped them into their chairs, and I could have sworn that I saw a glimpse of a smile on Trisha's face as she served up the Christmas Eve dinner.


	3. Tales of Love

**As a reminder, the POV will change from chapter to chapter. This is not a complete story but a compliation of short stories. The following chapter is from Roy Mustang's perspective.**

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** 2nd Christmas**

1902 - New Brisden

_Tales of Love_

The place jostled in a friendly sort of way - it wasn't dingy and dirty as one might first assume. The bar was always polished bright, and at this time of year everything glowed. The tables were topped with flickering candles, baubles were strung everywhere. The girls modified their outfits to include lush fabrics and allegedly 'flirtatious' fur trim. I didn't quite get it. Not that it mattered. It was still home.

"R-_oy_!" a girly whine called as I was suddenly hugged. I wriggled a little before my attacker straightened up to look at me. The first thing I saw were her boobs, pushed out into clear view and adorned with strands of pearls. Damn my height difference always making things awkward.

"Uhm… hi Clara." I muttered.

"Oh you look so _cute_!" she cooed.

"Well he better - _I_ dressed him." another female called. She stood in the hallway to the living quarters, hands cocked on her hips. Despite her age - only two years my senior - she wore a slinky, blue velvet dress, a copper stole hiding her goods from view. Unfortunately it didn't look like her future was going to be too different from the other girls', but we did our best to protect her. She worked hard, but she definitely wasn't for sale.

"Jezzie!" I cried. I don't know if it was from relief or fear. She kind of could put the fear of God in you if she wanted. She paced over to us, brushing my hair into place with a hand.

"I still don't know why you wanna go so bad." she huffed, lowering her nose to mine. Whenever she was in a mood, she always made sure to remind me of my shortness. "It's Christmas Eve. You should be with us, not that weird girl."

"Elizabeth's my friend!" I frowned. "She's very nice."

"Your _only_ friend."

"Hey! Knock it off. At least she's pretty!"

"Oh please. She's okay looking, but she's just… odd. You're in _such_ better company here." she pouted, rolling her shoulders inward and making her breasts push together.

"Real classy…" I muttered.

"WHAT WAS-?!"

"Jezzamine Collette!" a harsh bark broke our little argument and you could feel the room grow dead still. We stepped back from each other and looked towards the hallway door more than a little apprehensively.

"Ah… h-hi mom." I called weakly. She gave me a pointed stare before continuing. "You leave Roy-Boy alone and go about your business. Ms. Clara was supposed to take you out shopping this afternoon, was she not?"

"Ah… she is, ma'am." Jezzie mumbled, trying to hide behind her bushy hair.

"Then why aren't you doing it?" mom asked, cocking a brow as she lit up. I wasn't quite sure when she had started smoking, but I was willing to bet it was due to stress. Most likely my fault. Jezzie bid me an obligatory apology and hurried out the door. Clara rolled her eyes and followed after her, leaving just mom and I alone in the bar. She was an impressive woman. At one time she had been really thin and pretty. She had stopped being a working woman shortly after I came into her hands. It just wasn't right, she had said. Now she ran her own place, the brothel-bar Summer Xmas, and worked as 'Madame Christmas'. Everyone just called her Chris. I often wondered what her real name was. Years of hard work and management had aged her. She was a much larger woman now, and no longer very feminine.

She tossed her hair absentmindedly over her shoulder and beckoned me over. I came over and she gave me a skeptical eye. "You look nice." she said finally.

"Jezzie insisted on dressing me." I admitted.

"She teaching you?" mom teased. It was hard to tell because of her rough voice, but I had years of experience.

"Yeah, I suppose so. So, uhm… can I go to Elizabeth's now? Please? I cleaned up my room and dusted the bar."

"Didja now?" mom laughed, turning around to inspect my work. Her jewelry clinked and I could smell her perfume as she walked passed me. Roses and some other scent I couldn't recall. Whenever I had dreams about my real parents I imagined that momma had the same smell. It was the only one I could remember, anyway. The woman I called mom, the one now inspecting the steins behind the counter, was really my aunt. She was my dad's little sister, and was kind of gruff. A lot of days she was more like what I imagined a dad would be rather than a mother. Not that she was cruel or anything. She was just kinda distant. "Looks good to me kid. You're free to go." she smiled one of her rare smiles.

I beamed at her and ran to the back of the house, slipping out the door into the crisp December air. It a little odd, but mom insisted on having me take the back door until I was 'a suitable age'. She said it wasn't proper to see a little boy leaving an establishment like ours. I guessed she was right. Besides, I had learned how to climb fences like a pro! I scaled said fence and landed in the alleyway. I ran behind the neighboring building and popped out into the central plaza.

Despite our pretty small town, the place always seemed massive to me. Rows of shops lined the square, all decorated with exterior planter boxes, awnings, and painted wooden signs. On one side was the baker and the bookshop, crowded in by the market. To the other were some woolen goods imported from more southern cities of the East, like Old Brisden and Risembool. There was the beer hall - our beer was better, men had even said so, and our company finer - a tailor, the florist, and the barber. Many places had small stands outside selling additional wares. The butcher, for instance, sold cutlery on the side. In the center of the square was a giant fountain with a great sand colored base and two tiers of water. Every summer all of the children would gather around it, playing in the water until an adult kicked us out. We'd come back the next day though, and the day after that. Adults never really learn.

I sat on the lip of the fountain and looked down the road, waiting for Elizabeth and her school friends to come down the way. After a time, the first kid walked along, holding her father's hand and chatting about her day. The next was a group that ran to the confectionary, laughing excitedly. Then she came into sight, flanked by three boys and a girl. I watched them from afar as they argued.

"For the last time, Edgar, _no_." I could hear her huff from across the way. She stopped and turned on her heel. I guessed the boy had said something. "_What?_" Even from here she was intimidating. The boy named Edgar faltered for a moment.

"I said, 'well you'll never be normal then. You'll be weird like your father'!" he shouted. Several kids stopped to stare. I flinched. Elizabeth stared for a second before her fist connected with his face, knocking him a good yard backwards.

"Don't you EVER insult my father!" she yelled, storming away. Her friends jeered as Edgar starting panicking over his bloody nose, the female screaming something like 'that's not ladylike'. Elizabeth caught my eye and I immediately popped up and paced over to her. She kept her eyes trained in front of her, burning holes in the cobblestone.

"Uhm… happy 19th!" I said nervously. She relaxed a little, sighing.

"So happy it's Friday. No more school for a while." the glare returned. "No more _Edgar_ either."

"That just means you have more time to spend with me." I countered. It was kinda selfish, but I really missed her when she was at school. As much as I loved hearing about what it was like, and the things she got to do, I was always a bit jealous of the people who got to be around her all the time.

"Yeah, I will, hunh?" she laughed and swung her books by their strap. I knew better than to volunteer carrying them for her. She'd think I was being sexist or something.

"What're we gonna do today?" I asked. It was always a cross of curiosity and nervousness with that question. Mainly because Elizabeth ran the show, so her word was law. If I didn't like it then she'd call me out. Mom said that she 'wore the pants', whatever that meant.

"Decorate." she replied simply. "You know how father is." there was a sad look in her eyes but she quickly shook it off. "We'll have to find us a tree first!"

"Eliza-"

"Riza."

"Uhm… Riza, you're only _ten_." I reminded her.

"And you're a year older. So? We're gonna get us a tree." she huffed, holding her books to her chest. "You're so difficult sometimes, Roy."

"Well… uhm, how do you think we're gonna get one?" I muttered, cowed once again.

"There's a forest behind my house, isn't there?"

_'But how are we getting it in the _house_?' _I wondered. I remained silent the rest of the walk, pulling my scarf up over my nose. New Brisden winters were fair: there was always a soft blanket of snow covering everything like the icing of a gingerbread house, and the wind, while biting at times, carried the scents from the bakers and of the clusters of trees on the far edges of the city. We wound through shops and houses, then through the division of nicer homes that backed the rolling countryside. We picked through clusters of snow and clambered over old wooden fences, passing by the old farm houses that had been passed through generations of families. At last we spotted her place: a shabby old mansion with a broken front gate and weeds growing all over the lawn. As we walked up the way I saw a flicker of light from one of the upper windows.

"Is Master gonna teach us anything new today?" I asked hopefully.

"No. He's in one of his moods again." Riza muttered. "And would you stop with the 'Master' thing? It's creepy."

"Is not." I pouted. "He told me to call him that. I'm his apprentice of sorts after all."

"Just because he's teaching _you_." she huffed, stepping inside the unlocked door and shrugging off her coat.

"Are you jealous, Ri-ri?" I asked hesitantly, removing my boots.

"No." she sniffed. "I just don't want _you_ to be anything like _him_." She stalked off to the kitchen, leaving me feeling a bit guilty. So she _was_ jealous. Scared even. I sighed and followed after her. Thanks to my 'sisters' I had learned how females' minds worked. No use apologizing, I'd just let her think she won the argument.

Riza was standing in the kitchen, extracting a large bag from the cabinet. "Uhm… what are you doing?" I asked. I really, really hoped there wasn't a body of sorts in there. After our misadventure of shooting the neighbor's steer, I wouldn't put much passed her. Especially not when the skull 'trophy' still sat proudly in her room.

"Shh! Don't tell anyone!" she joked, shutting the door and dragging the bag into the adjoining room. There was massive grandfather clock on the opposing wall, it's weathered wood and tarnished fixtures evident even from a distance. Beaten as it was, it was still a gorgeous show of craftsmanship. It would have been even cooler if it still worked. The glass casing was broken into jagged edges, the shards cleared up years ago, the back of the wood burned black. Riza had once told me that her father had smashed it the day her mother died. From what I could tell, that was also the day that he abandoned her for his studies, some days forgetting that she even existed. Ironic how the clock had truly stopped.

"Sit here." she instructed, pointing to the couch. I was happy to see that it was holding up these days. It marked one of my first alchemic successes: being able to use Reconstruction by stitching the cushions back together. Riza flitted in and out of the room until she had returned with several armfuls of string. "Take this." she instructed, shoving a disturbingly large needle in my direction. I took it with hesitation.

"What are you making me do?" I questioned, knowing full well that Riza was NOT one for domestic crafts.

"Oh quit your worrying already!"she huffed, sitting back on her heels and threading her own needle. She pulled the drawstrings on the large bag and spilled the contents over the coffee table. "We're making popcorn garland." she announced, setting a much smaller package of cranberries beside the ashtray. "When we're done we can go find us a tree to string it on." I stared at her until she turned pink. "What? It's… it's not too girly, is it?" she asked, blushing harder. I couldn't help but smile. Seeing her blush was a rare but cute occasion.

"No, no. It's fine. I'm just surprised is all."

"Surprised?" she hazarded.

"Yeah. I mean, normally we have to do obscenely manly things like hunting small animals with your dad's shotgun." I teased. "Naw, I'm just kinda surprised that you wanted to do this with me. It's more of a family thing, isn't it?"

"Well it's not like I'm gonna be able to do anything with _him_." she huffed, jerking her thumb towards the second story. "'Sides… I like you, Roy." she mumbled. "Ah! I mean, you know, you're a really good friend. You know… you're like family."

"I like you too, Ri-ri." I replied simply. She blushed again and my heart fluttered. I loved making her happy. I picked up a piece of popcorn and threaded it onto the string, trying to figure out a pattern. "What's that saying? 'Can't pick your family but you can pick your friends'? Sometimes I guess you can pick your own little family, hunh?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well… neither you or I have much. We both know that. You're the only one that I trust with my secret… you know, about my adoptive family?"

"That they're prostitutes?" she replied bluntly.

"Ah hanh… yeah, that. But… I know about your dad and all. We're friends, but we rely on each other. Doesn't that kinda make us a family of our own? Like how a family should be?" I mumbled the last part, getting increasingly embarrassed. Riza sat in thought for a while, threading a perfect pattern with her garland. Eight popcorn, three cranberries, repeat. Mine wasn't nearly as perfect.

"You're right." she nodded. "I guess that's what they mean when they say 'what are friends for'. For the family that you can count on when everything else falls apart." she shot me a grin. "Glad that it's you and not someone else, Roy."

"Not Edgar?" I laughed.

"No! Not Edgar!" she giggled, twirling a half-completed garland. We sat and chatted as we prepared the garland. We talked about her school, about Edgar, stupid girls, and strict teachers. We talked about our plans for the New Year and what we wanted to save up our money to buy. She told me that there was supposed to be a new shipment of books coming in soon, and I talked about the things I had heard the grown-ups talk about at home. I talked about my sisters and how they were doing, how mom had to protect one of them because someone had tried to strangle her 'in a bad way'. We debated Christmas gifts and made speculations about the rumors of war coming to Amestris. We were particularly nervous about that. We ended up running out of string before we ran out of topics to discuss.

We stood up, looking at the yards upon yards of garland that we had made. "Pretty impressive, hunh?" Riza beamed, obviously proud of herself.

"No kidding." I nodded, brushing stray kernels off of my pants. "Looks like we're gonna need a bucket to carry all of it."

"Oh! I know just the thing." she replied, jumping up and running into the kitchen. "Go get your boots back on, okay? I'll be there in just a minute!" I smiled and bundled the garland into neat clumps before moving back into the entryway. As I began to re-lace, I heard heavy movement from upstairs. More scuffling, and then silence. I frowned. Master was up to something again, that was for sure. By the time both of my boots were securely on, muffled footsteps were making their way down the stairs.

Berthold Hawkeye stood in the hall, scraggly brown hair spilling over his shoulders. He wrapped his oversized coat around himself, one belled sleeve pushed up to his elbow, revealing ink-stained skin. "Mustang." he said, curious light eyes sliding over to me.

"Ah… yes sir?" I looked back at him with a healthy mix of respect and fear. It was a hard line to walk when addressing one both very intelligent and very insane.

"It's true, you know." he stated in a raspy whisper. "About the war. It'll be terrible."

"War generally is, sir."

"Don't join them."

"Sir?"

"The military. They're crazy. They'll get me." his voice tremored. "You know why? Because they _know_. They can't keep me dumb, I _know_. I'm on to those wily bastards."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but the military is a fine establishment." I said nervously. Sure, it had been something I'd heard from a man back home, but he seemed a respectable gentleman.

"Don't let them fool you!" he whispered harshly. "They're evil. Mark me, boy, or they'll get you too." He pulled a thin piece of chalk from his robe and fiddled with it. "Reconstruction. Deconstruction. It's all alchemy, see?" He mumbled, no longer trained on me. Instead they looked distant, that usual haunted, half-crazed stare. He looked so gaunt and dead. "Always opposites, always opposites… Humans are fickle creatures. Strange, yes." He pivoted on heel and punched a hole deep into the wall, sending plaster coughing everywhere. I stared wide eyed. "Not like walls. Can't be put back together. It's too messy and you lose pieces." He crouched down and began to trace a transmutation circle on the intact part of the wall. The trademark light flashed, but instead of being repaired, the plaster rippled and formed horrific faces, fighting to break through. "What we don't know becomes ugly, doesn't it?" he laughed. "Ugly, ugly. Now what should I -?"

Riza stopped dead in her tracks, shifting a giant tub to glare suspiciously at her father.

"I… I think I'll make a pie…" he muttered, transformed before my eyes. "Yes… that should be lovely…" he sighed absently and shuffled into the kitchen, staring around as if he'd never seen the interior of his own house before. Riza watched him go and glanced at the mutilated wall. Gripping the tub of garland tighter, she reached for my hand and stormed out the front door. I stumbled after her through the snow, tripping over concealed stones and long abandoned tools. After a moment I realized that she was crying.

"Riza?"

"_What?_" she barked, vainly wiping at her eyes.

"Hey… hey what's wrong?" I asked, running forward to try and keep pace with her.

"What's wrong? HE'S what's wrong! Always acting so damn weird! Destroying EVERYTHING. That's all he ever does! He just sits up in that damn study of his and writes all day long. He'll get paranoid and insist that someone's after him and start tearing down the curtains and breaking glass and throwing things. I can't _stand_ it anymore! I'm sick of living with a mad man! He hasn't even _tried_ to care of me ONCE since mom died! No, what's going on? I have to make sure that HE'S fed and that HE gets to bed. Every single damn day! I don't understand him at all! I can't relate to him, and he sure as hell doesn't even try to relate to _me_. Every time he sees me he either gets really awkward or he breaks down again. Damnit, I can't HELP that I look like mom!" she sunk down in the snow, no longer able to hold in the tears. "I miss her so much, Roy. So damn much. Dad was normal back then. He played with me. He was a good papa. And mom… mom was like an angel. She was so beautiful and kind. She would always help him find new texts and scrolls, talk about alchemy and try to understand it herself. He was so proud of her, always talking about how I'd end up being his little protégé. He loved me so much then… but after mom died… after that then I became a complete stranger to him. At first I thought it was because it hurt to be reminded of her so much, and I was okay with that. I could get that. But… but he's totally insane now. I… I just don't know what to do. I feel so _lonely_ all the time. It's just that big mansion with the two of us. What's worse is that I try to stay away because I'm afraid he'll get _too_ violent. And… and I don't want you to get hurt, Roy. I don't want you to be like that! You're too good a person. I don't want him to totally snap on you either. I… I'm just so scared…"

I kneeled down in front of her shaking form, overwhelmed by her outburst. "Hey…" I paused and then lifted her chin with a finger. I'd seen the grown-ups do it and it looked pretty romantic. I hoped it was comforting. "Hey… don't worry about me, okay? I've known your dad for years now. He's pretty crazy, yeah, but… I don't think he'd hurt anybody. 'Sides, I can be tough when I wanna be!" She looked up at me and laughed weakly.

"Fat chance of that." she choked. "I'm more man than you'll ever be." I pouted a little and she laughed even harder.

"Hey now!" I frowned. "You're kinda missin' a pair."

"Still got more balls than you!" she teased, pulling me in for a hug. I smiled, accustomed to her teasing and returned the hug.

"Hey, Riza?"

"Yeah?"

"I know what it's like to feel alone, even though you're around other people. It's like that at home all the time. I know they love me, but they have no time for me either. It's lonely, and it's just not _my_ parents. But… we'll be okay." I said, withdrawing from our hug. She sat back and looked at me, hope swimming in those amber orbs. "And ya know?" I added, plucking up a strand of garland and draping it over her head. "You look kinda like an angel to me."

She blushed that beautiful shade of pink before spraying me with fresh snow. We laughed and parted, throwing loose snowballs at each other and enjoying the other's company. Though I knew it was impossible, I hoped that those times would never change. As the snow began to fall around us, and she reached out to take my hand, I knew that even if this world and our fears would one day swallow us up, that she at least would never leave my side.


	4. Farm Hands

**As a reminder, the POV will change from chapter to chapter. This is not a complete story but a compliation of short stories. The following chapter is from Jean Havoc's perspective.**

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** 3rd Christmas**

1904 - Old Brisden: Countryside

_Farm Hands_

They said that the war on our border would be a short one. They said that we were in the right and that we should be more proud than ever of our soldiers. That we should pack up lots and lots of baskets to send to them to wish them well. The adults said a lot of things, but nothing was as cool and impressive as going to town and seeing them all walking around in their uniforms, sandy cloaks slung over an arm. Those shiny black boots leaving prints in the dust that my little brother Russell and I would try to walk in. One day I would join those men and women. I didn't really want to go to war though. I wasn't afraid to say that that was scary. I had heard enough stories from older folk to know better. It was just a thing for us Old Brisdeners. If you were a boy, you either worked your papa's land with the rest of the family or you joined the military. A year into the war, we were more patriotic than ever.

I sat on a hay bale, wrapped in an ugly angora blanket. The snow had cleared a few days ago, and sludge was everywhere, making the usually dusty road muddy in places. Russell was running around and chasing after the chickens, pretending he was a dog. Dolt. Though it could be kinda fun to make him fetch. He was six, three years younger than me. He could be annoying, though I guessed that that was true of most siblings. Mama said so, anyway. She was an only child, but she had a lot of cousins her age. I supposed that made her most qualified.

"Hey Russ!" I called, catching his attention immediately. "I think we should find mama and pa now, it's gettin' kinda dark."

"But they said they'd get us!" he whined. He let the chickens be and bounded over to me, scrambling up into the hay pile. "'Sides. It's _always_ dark in winter."

"Yeah. So?" I pouted, playing with the cenz in my pocket.

"You 'fraid of the dark, brother?" he asked seriously. Stupid big blue eyes.

"Yeah." I huffed. "Come on. Can't stay out here forever. It'll get real cold soon." I threw the blanket over his shoulders and held his little hand. He may have been annoying, but he was still my brother and I still loved him. I helped him off of our perch and looked for the best route to go. After a little, I chose the northern path. It was less muddy and I figured Russell didn't need to get any dirtier than he already was. Mama would already have a cow. We set off, stepping around the potholes and little rivers that wheels had dug into the earth. Russell kicked at the dirt, sending up little puffs of dust that caught the light of the rapidly falling sun. The horizon looked like a darkening grey mouth snapping down on a golden bread, disappearing beyond distant hills. I shivered and hugged closer to Russ. It was clear enough of a night to be 'bone chilling' as mama called it.

Up ahead was another cluster of buildings - the northern branch of town before it entered wandering homesteads like ours. Except ours was a little more south. I didn't usually come this far up from home, but I knew that there would be friendly faces here. All else failed, there would be a landline to phone around. Old Brisden didn't have many residents, so those of us who weren't hermits knew just about everyone else. Someone would know where our parents were.

The first light was from the porch light of a small house. We passed it by, peeking inside the window to see a cozy living room, decked out for the holiday. A small walk later there was a string of shop fronts, that, like most of town, was open only seasonally. Clusters of people walked to and fro, scurrying from building to building and wrapping their coats and scarves closer around themselves. I pushed Russell forward a little, steering him into a shop with a big glass front. Friendly orange light came from inside and the smell of cinnamon and gingerbread overpowered most everything.

Inside people jostled about - not rudely, but there was little space and all of the chatter made things very comfortable. I sat Russell down at a little table and made my way to the counter, ordering us both hot ciders with the money that I kept stashed in my pockets. I wasn't sure how long it would be before we could get to our parents, but I knew we had to keep warm. As I waited I watched all of the other occupants. Papa had said that it wasn't polite to stare, but I thought of it more as just observing. Like how Russell and I would sit on our fence back home and watch the cows or the wild Mustangs that had been imported years ago. In the far corner were the lovers, snuggling close and holding hands. Men stood around the paper stand, cheeks blushed from the cold and from permanent sunburn of our way of life. Women in plush coats chatted or hung on their husbands arm, eyes bright from holiday cheer. A young woman with extravagantly done hair was sending less-than-respectable looks to some of the teenage boys. I blamed the eggnog full heartedly. Her companions seemed to think so too, I figured, the blonde girl rolling her eyes and holding her friend's hand, reclining on his shoulder. I was happy to see that they looked about my age. I hadn't seen them around, so I figured that they were new in town. I grinned and made a mental note of it, grabbing the too-hot drinks and carrying them back over to my little brother.

"Hey Russ, we might have some more friends!" I grinned, sitting across from him.

"Yeah?" his eyes lit up. Even though most farmers had a lot of kids, they were of varying ages and lived all over the place. It was pretty hard to find permanent company.

"Uh hunh. Oh and be careful that's… hot." I sighed as he stuck out his tongue, trying to cool the burn. "Dolt. Be careful."

"I was!" he mumbled over his tongue. "_Really_ hot."

"No kidding." I replied, already over it. "But yeah, those kids over there: the blonde girl and the kid with the dark hair and odd eyes. They don't look local." Russell hung half out of his seat to get a good look at them.

"Naw, they sure don't. Think they'll stick around?"

"Dunno. Hope so. They look about my age. It'd be cool to have more than pipsqueaks like you." I teased, sticking out my tongue. Russell pouted back.

"Hey!" a voice called to us. Even though it belonged to a kid, it was deeper than usual. I turned around in my seat to look at him. He was kinda big, with hair the color of autumn leaves.

"Heymans!" I beamed, getting up to hug my friend. He laughed and tore another chunk of the christstollen he carried. "Eating as usual." I jabbed. He just shrugged.

"Duh." he ruffled my already messy hair. "Still a beanpole I see." he taunted back.

"It's a lost cause." I admitted. I was already a good few inches taller than he was. "Guess I'm just more of an adult!"

"Haha likely case!" he countered, sitting down at our table and passing a slice of the fruit bread to my brother. "What're you guys doing up here?" he asked as I sat back down.

"Dunno where mama and pa are." Russell said around his food.

"That's gross, Russ." I muttered, pushing a napkin his direction. "They said they'd be back but that was a really long time ago." I added.

"Like how long?" Heymans mused.

"Awe, com'mon you know me." I frowned.

"Yeah, yeah, you could wait until the cows come home." he grinned. "Well, you're in friendly hands here, Havoc. Let's blow this joint. Ma thought she saw you too so she sent me in. We've got some nice soup on the table. Come have some." Russell automatically scrambled up and followed after him. I rolled my eyes and cleaned up his side of the table with a napkin before following the two of them. I noticed as I passed the shop door that the two kids I had spotted earlier were passing up north. Something told me that I'd be seeing them again someday.

By now the dusk had passed to dark and the cold groped forward like little fingers. I shivered, glad at least that Russell had our blanket to keep him warm. I listened faintly as Heymans chattered away to him, eyeing the roads. I wasn't sure what it was about the dark but it had always made me a little nervous. It was annoying that Russ had been able to guess. His dumb big eyes always got me to tell the truth. After a time we passed a big white fence guarded by a gleaming red mailbox, 'Breda' painted in bold on its side. We passed through the front door - everyone in Old Brisden kept theirs unlocked for friends and family - and huddled at the massive kitchen table.

Mrs. Breda was a kindly woman, slender and pretty with the same autumn-brushed hair as her son. She took our out clothes and hung them up, taking the entire time. Heymans poured us all a healthy amount of soup, pawing around the counter for more bread.

"Sorry 'bout ma." he muttered. "She _really_ likes us kids."

"Awe hush, child, that's only 'cause I want more." she scolded gently, thunking a clean spoon on his head. "I'd have a whole litter of your lot if I could." she winked.

"I dun' think you'd want that, ma." he grinned back. "Ain't one of me enough?"

"_More_ than enough!" a deep voice agreed. Mr. Breda was a truly impressive man in both girth and height. His hair was almost black and spread into a smiling beard. I always thought of him as a younger Santa Claus. He laughed heartily and hauled a bowl of soup to his seat, joking around with us all. "So where's Johann and Elsbeth tonight?"

"Dunno." I answered, feeling a little more sheepish. "They said they'd be back, but it had been hours and I wanted to keep Russ warm 'n all…" I trailed off, wondering if I should have just stayed put.

"That's sweet of you, honey." Mrs. Breda smiled, petting my shoulder. "Well I'll phone around. You too stay put now, you can bed here if ya want or need."

"Thanks ma'am." Russell and I mumbled in unison.

"Where'd they go?" Mr. Breda asked, stirring his spoon around in big circles.

"Not sure." I admitted. "Pa was gonna sell some of his paintings and mama had some canned stuffs that she wanted to exchange for knitting supplies. There's been a sheep shortage this year more south. Too cold - it's not been good for the little'uns."

"Poor sheepies." Russell frowned.

"Poor sheep _pies_." Heymans sniggered. His father hid a loud guffaw with a cough.

"It's been a bit of a hard winter for all of us this year." he said. "What with the year here and brewin'. Sure hope they're all right about how long it'll be. I dunno how our economy'll go if we keep sending a strong sixty percent their way."

"Will we getta fight?" Russell perked up.

"I sure hope not. Not yet, anyway." Mr. Breda mused.

"I wanna be a soldier!" Heymans grinned, looking adoringly to his retired father.

"You'll hafta lose some weight first there, chubby." I laughed.

"You'll hafta _gain_ some ya twig!" he shot back, smiling around more christstollen.

"What about me?" Russell quipped. We sat and looked at him.

"You'll have to grow up, little man." Mr. Breda chuckled, ruffling my brother's sandy hair. "Have fun bein' a little kid, okay? It's a lot a hard work bein' a soldier."

"I work hard already! With pa and brother."

"It's a different kinda work, kiddo. It takes stuff from here and _here_." he replied, poking gently at Russell's head and chest. "You'll get it one day."

"Awe, don't tell me that!" my brother whined. "I hate it when grown-ups say that stuff."

"I'm in no rush." I said thoughtfully. "Who wants to run in to get hurt or worse? I mean… I wanna be a soldier too. I wanna serve my country and protect my loved ones 'n all. It's the right thing ta do, and I wanna make my old man proud. I just wish this war was so close… I hope it ends soon. I don't wanna get caught up in it." I shot a glance across the table. "I don't want people I care about to get hurt. 'Specially innocent people." Mr. Breda watched me interestedly.

"What would you fight for then, young mister?"

"Well, 'cause it's the patriotic and mature thing ta do. For honor for my family, and to protect others. I don't wanna fight, really. Can't be helped though, hunh? I guess it's kinda silly…"

"I don't think so." Heymans added, staring down at the table. "I don't wanna kill anybody. I wanna fight, but I don't want anyone to get hurt either. THAT'S silly." he frowned a little. "I guess I can wait then too. It's pretty crazy out there, isn't it? Not just for us kids but for grown folk too. Kinda scary, really." We all sat in silence. The war had been weighing on everyone these days, even though people talked like the end was just around the corner. There were a lot of soldiers who wouldn't be home for Christmas. I felt a little guilty being so safe and sound.

"There's a lot out there we don't need, hunh?" I frowned.

"Yeah… guess so." Heymans nodded.

"We got it easy here. We're the lucky ones. But… maybe… maybe we should do a little more while we can. I think if I was over there an' all grown up that I'd feel mighty lonely. I think… I think we can give up Christmas this year. Be brave like them."

"Give up…?" Heymans blinked. "How?" Russell stared up at me in shock and wonder.

"We don't need toys we only play with once. We don't need oranges in our stockings when we get a whole goose dinner. It's just… wrong, isn't it? We could send 'em stuff. From _us_, ya know? Sell our toys this year for blankets and stuff and send 'em all the food that we won't eat. I mean… Christmas is about giving. We can wait, can't we?"

"Yeah…" Heymans grinned. "Yeah, you're right. Whaddya think, pa? I can do without for one year. We're still kids, just like ya said. We've got more Christmas' comin' up."

"I think ya'll are older than ya look." he rumbled, an unusually soft look in his eye. "And more thoughtful than a lotta us adults." He got up from the table and petted our hair, shaking his head a little as he left the room.

The three of us hunched around the table, taking for once about things we could give away rather than the things we hoped would be under the tree in a few nights. Russell looked more excited than I had expected, giving me the sweetest smile I'd seen in a long time. I beamed back. _'Hey God? This year my Christmas wish is to make people happy. Keep everyone safe, okay? Least 'till I can enlist 'n protect 'em myself. There's nothin' else I really need.'_


	5. Training Days

**As a reminder, the POV will change from chapter to chapter. This is not a complete story but a compliation of short stories. The following chapter is from Roy Mustang's perspective.**

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**4th Christmas**

1907 - East Academy of Military Excellence

_Training Days_

_"There is only two and a half hours left"_, I told myself. _"Just a little over two. Then I can pack up and go home. Just two- "_

"Mustang!" that sharp, icy voice. I gritted my teeth. "Get your ass in gear!"

"Yes'sir!" I called back, fighting the urge to glare at my current officer. I readjusted my grip on the rope and hauled myself over the edge of the wall, scrambling down the other side as fast as I could manage. I strode over to a gathering group of men and waited for the rest of my group to finish the course. Our officer stood stalk still, glaring down every man that had an inkling of laziness. Her hair was platinum blonde and done up in a tight bun, with eyes that matched her icy exterior. Olivier Armstrong was not a woman to trifle with, though she sure as hell was beautiful. When the last man had beaten the wall she straightened up, adjusting the official uniform that I was so envious of, and paced over to us. She was smirking. I could just _hear_ the ominous music in the background.

"Okay ladies!" she barked, making us all visibly tense. Sadistic bitch probably got off on that. "We've got a little more than two hours left, so I'm gonna make you show me that you can do more than this simple pansy shit." she jerked her thumb over at the course we had just completed. Oh yeah. This _certainly_ could not bode well. "We're going to play a little game of capture the flag." We all grinned. "_War style._" We weren't grinning anymore.

After a moment's instruction, our class was split into two distinct teams, rounded up and boarded onto trucks. First Lieutenant Armstrong decided to ride in my car. Core instructing over, she released her hair from its bun, allowing it to cascade around her shoulders. She really would be good material to bring home, were it not for the fact that she had no soul and no tact. The rest of the man in my group shied away from her seat. Smart men. I gave her another glance, admiring her uniform. Royal blue with gold cords. Striped boards and precise black boots. It was impressive. Her camp-exclusive name tag caught in the sunlight and I recalled the first time I had seen it.

_"Oliver?" I asked, frowning at the odd name. I rarely spoke out of rank. Stupid puppy._

_"Olivia." she replied curtly._

_"But it's spelled -" Apparently stupid puppy hadn't learned to shut up yet._

_"You expect me to take on that _feminine _spelling?" she glared._

_"Uh… oh. Okay." I muttered, backing away before she could assign me extra hours._

Even back then I had wondered what had happened in her life to make her so bitter. I supposed that working in a male-dominant job had changed her a bit, but… with the Lieutenant, nothing was too extreme. My heart clenched. Riza was a freshman this year. I had asked her not to join the Academy, for fear that she would see war one day. With the state of things in Ishbal, I was afraid that day wouldn't be too far away. She said she'd think about it. I had left on the train for my sophomore year, feeling assured. But low and behold, there she was in the mess hall, donned in the white and black uniform and all. I had pulled her aside and begged her to reconsider her choice, but she just wouldn't hear it.

I bit my lip and looked at my hands. I hadn't had a choice in my future. Not a serious one, at least. Master Hawkeye had taught me what I had missed in a formal education. My mother ran a brothel. There really had been nowhere else to turn to. Not that I wasn't proud, for I was definitely excited to officially enlist, but some days I wondered what life would have been like had I had more available to me. Was it wrong to try to leave Riza alone back home? Like the Lieutenant, she was pretty tough for a girl, and a damn good shot at that, but… I supposed my raising had given me a soft spot for females in general. Even the toughest ones had to be protected at some time.

I supposed Riza hadn't really had a choice either. Raised by an ailing and literally insane father, one who's paranoia had separated them beyond reconciliation. Because of him, she was the outcast in New Brisden. All of the girls thought she was too weird, so when she went to school, she had played with the boys instead. I would sit by the fountain in the center square and wait for her to be let out so that we could walk to her house together. It had become a ritual for us, even into our teens. She was so lucky that she could afford an education. Perhaps that was why I had hoped that she could have done more. But despite our age difference, gender, and my attempts to be the perfect gentleman, she was always the one looking after me and making sure that I didn't get hurt. Or at least, taking care of me when one of her plans went awry and I _did_ get hurt. I smiled to myself. _"Silly Riza… I'm not that much of a kid anymore. You didn't need to follow me here. I'll be alright."_

Our truck pulled to a stop at the edge of a dense forest. We looked at the black canopy with trepidation as the rest of our convoy drove in and parked beside us. According to Lieutenant, the only true way to play capture the flag was to do it in the most hardcore way she could imagine. We would enter the forest from this end, while our rival team would enter from the opposite side - a good ten miles away. Between us were numerous traps rigged by the Academy, rocky hills covered with snow, iced over streams, and along the banks, a marsh. I held onto my modified gun as the others examined theirs. They had been alchemically modified for training purposes. When fired, it would should a capsule of ink that would explode upon contact. All men who were tagged in the game were considered dead.

"War takes no prisoners." she had said. I failed to agree, but chose to remain silent. Every dead man would have to walk back to his camp and wait out the close of the game. A team of four men were to guard the flag bearer. Should he 'die', then one of them would take his place. The rest of us would move forward. If neither team could retrieve the enemy flag within the remaining hour and a half, our entire class would be punished with pushups and cleaning out the mess hall before leaving. I groaned and hoisted my gun's strap over my shoulder, settling it into place.

"Hey Roy!" Man, could that voice clear all dark thoughts. The tall man hopped out of his truck and paced over to me, his usual smile plastered on his face. He was clothed in uniform - blue, the color of a true soldier, rather than the ashy grey that I wore.

"Second Lieutenant Hughes!" I greeted him. "Crazy day, hunh?"

"Yeah, you ain't kidding!" he laughed, sitting on the tailgate beside me. "Especially for being the last day before break."

"Hell, I'm happy to even _have_ a break. First official one we've had since we started in July." I groaned. "Christmas should be fun though." I couldn't help but smile.

"You betcha it will be!" he cheered, unusual eyes sparking with excitement. "What do you wanna do first?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Sleep in a real bed." I admitted guiltily.

"Good call."

We continued to talk as the other men assembled in small groups and starting discussing strategies. I had met Lieutenant Hughes at the start of the year, and we had gotten along from the start. His optimistic view on life was a good balance to my uncertainty and shyness. He got me to come out of my shell and to trust him. In return, I supposed that I had made him a little more serious and realistic when it came to situations. I had definitely made him more sensitive to the feelings of women. Damn me and my raising, I just couldn't stand the slightest injustice to them. He had asked me why it bothered me so much. Embarrassed, I had avoided the question. I didn't want him to know that I had been raised with prostitutes. Judgment was still something I feared.

It had only been a matter of months sense then, but it seemed like we had known each other forever. We butted heads on occasion, but rarely on serious matters, and he always had managed to cheer me up when I was upset. That was also why he won more than half of our arguments, but I didn't really mind so much. The other men in my class were suspicious of us. Whispered how it was fishy for a sophomore to spend so much time with an instructor that was four years his senior. Said that I was 'appeasing the higher ups' so as to secure my own future within the military ranks. I let them talk. The more they did, the more my name got around. I would rather fight and be remembered, even in infamy, than to die for my country and be another forgotten face. It was selfish, but I found it hard pressed to find someone who didn't inwardly feel the same way.

I smiled up at Maes. To the men, he was Second Lieutenant Hughes. I had the special privilege of a first-name basis. Perhaps that was why the men were so suspicious of us. He grinned back and hugged my shoulders. "You ready, kid?" he teased. I would have punched him, but given our surroundings I would have gotten in trouble. Damn parameters.

"Yeah, looks like."

He laughed and pushed me towards the forest line. "Then go, ya nut!" he called. I ran into the woods with my team, thoughts preoccupied. It made sense that people were suspicious. I had found it increasingly hard to ignore the fact that I didn't mind. Did I like him like that? He certainly was an attractive guy, what with his broad shoulders and unusual, warm eyes. But he was also the first icon of masculinity in my life. After spending fourteen-plus years with women exclusively, going to Academy was like wading in a sea of testosterone. It worried me that that disgusted me most of the time. It wouldn't be so shocking if I did like guys…

The first scream shocked me back to my senses. Maes could be considered later - I had all of Christmas break to think about him. "MAN DOWN!" the student beside me yelled. Several yards ahead, a man with ink splattered blonde hair began to trek back to base.

"They've infiltrated this far already?!" I called, searching for my target.

"Must've gotten a head start." the other student yelled back.

"Or cheated!" the man behind me growled. I ran forward, searching for the enemy shooter. Jumping over the remains of a fallen tree, I trying to avoid dense-looking patches of snow. Up ahead there was a switch of moving bush as a flicker of grey disappeared from sight. With a triumphant grin, I descended upon my prey.

***

The hour-long train ride back home was filled with conversation. It had been a happy coincidence when I had found that Maes and I were both natives of New Brisden several months back. It wasn't a huge town, but I had never seen his face before Academy. I wondered vaguely if Riza had recognized him from public school. She wasn't coming back with us this year. She said she wanted to spend more time with her new friend Rebecca, so was staying the holiday at Academy. I knew she was really just trying to avoid her father. I'd have to remember to bring her back something especially nice.

"I still can't believe you lost!" Maes teased, taking a sip of coffee as we left the station.

"Ugh, don't remind me!" I groaned. "You know that wasn't my fault. I made it all the way to the flag and there was a stand-off. Just barely got shot. At least they let me leave through their base."

"So what are they making you do as punishment?"

"The winning team?" I sighed, getting a better grip on my suitcase. "In layman's terms, we have to be their bitch the first week back. This is gonna suck!"

"Oh… yeah, that's not gonna be so great." Maes sympathized. "If any of them try anything too extreme, just let me know, okay? I'll make sure they get their asses handed to them."

"Try anything…?" I repeated. "What do you think they're gonna do?"

Maes was awkwardly silent. "Well, ya know… abuse of power. We turn here." he motioned, eager to change topics. I gave him an odd look but followed his lead.

"Whoa… these look like nice houses." I commented.

"They're alright, I suppose." Maes shrugged. "Just houses really. I've seen much better."

"I'm sure your house is nice." I insisted, recalling my shoebox of a bedroom.

"Hey, seeing as we're here, maybe we should visit your folks?"

"Uhm… I'd rather not." I hastily replied.

"Oh? Bad record with them or something?" he asked innocently, taking me up another street.

"Not exactly. I uhm… I wanted to lose a little more weight and all before I saw them again. Really impress them."

"Weight? Are you kidding me? You're practically _underweight_, just look at you!" Maes exclaimed. "And I didn't even see you your freshman year. You must have been a scrawny little thing."

"Was not!"

"I dunno about that, soldier." he grinned. Stupid addictive personality. I instantly forgave him. "Hey, looks like we're here! Home sweet home." We approached a massive two story home, tawny brown with rich brown decorative crossbeams. Window planter boxes overflowed with red blossoms despite the season. I gawked.

"_This_ is your _house_?"

"Uh… yeah." Maes nodded, looking up as if to make sure. "Come on, let's get you inside." Dumbfounded at its size, I stumbled indoors, depositing my luggage beside the Lieutenant's and shedding my coat. The inside of the home was as beautiful as the outside, painted in rich shades of yellow, red, and brown with wooden accents everywhere. A giant nutcracker stood beside the coat stand, across from us an elaborate coo coo clock hung on the wall. "Well, uh… this is the dining room." Maes offered awkwardly. "And to the left is the kitchen and the office. To the right is the family room and the stairs. Do you want something to drink, or -?"

"Boys?" a warm voice called from the other room. "Are you home?" a woman with soft brown hair rounded the corner, wiping her hands off on her skirt. "Maes-baby you're back!" she cheered, pulling him into an intense hug.

"Hi mom." he choked back, prying the woman off of himself. "Uh, this is Roy Mustang. He's the one I've told you about."

"Ah, so you're the one." she smiled, eyes sparkling. She was a pretty woman, a little plump with rosy cheeks and despite her grey streaked hair, she evoked a warmth that seemed timeless.

"I suppose so, ma'am." I blushed. Had Maes been talking so much of me?

"Oh no need for the formalities, deary. My name is Adelaide Hughes, so just call me Adel. Everyone does. Goose is in the pot. Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Don't melt, you poor thing. Warm up by the fire and borrow one of Maes' shirts, he won't mind none." she called, passing back into the kitchen. I stared after her, feeling strangely… complete.

"Sorry about her." the Lieutenant muttered. "She loves company."

"I don't mind." I replied instantly. "It's nice. Really nice." It was homey. It felt like family. Like how I had always imagined. Mom was good to me, but she wasn't a worrywart or much of a caretaker. She didn't mind if I came home at the early hours of the morning or if I just didn't show up for dinner. She was sort of the distant father figure. She let me make all the decisions myself. I welled up with warmth. This felt right.

Maes led me through the family room and up the stairs. "This one's my room. Well… there's really only two bedrooms, so I'll sleep on the couch." he muttered. I paused and flushed.

"I didn't know it would be an imposition. I'm sorry!"

"Don't worry about it." he insisted, an odd look on his features. "I'm really happy to have you here." My heart fluttered and I internally sighed. I guess that answered my earlier thoughts. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. _"Damn your sisters Roy, for teaching you how to appreciate a good man."_

" - for him." Maes finished.

"Sorry, what?" I stuttered, breaking from my less-than-militarily-acceptable thoughts.

"I said, 'watch out for him'." he repeated, turning the knob to his bedroom. I was about to ask what he had meant by that when a big blur of white came flying out from within and bowled him over.

"DOWN COLONEL! DOWN!"

I stared in confusion as my friend struggled with the fluffy mass. Finally it sat down, panting. I stared some more for good measure. "Is that… a white _German Shepherd_?"

"Yeah. Colonel's one of few. Handsome boy, ain't he?" Maes panted as well, still trying to regain his breath. "He's _generally_ a good dog. He just uh… really loves me."

"Yeah." I breathed, sinking down next to the colossal dog, wrapping my arms around his fluffy chest. He was strong and warm. After a second he lowered his muzzle and rested it on my shoulder, nuzzling me lightly.

"Guess he really likes you." Maes noted, surprise tingeing his voice. "It normally takes him a while to warm up to someone."

"I love dogs." I mumbled, burying my face in his coat. Maes chuckled and moved my luggage inside his room, sitting on the bed a moment before calling me over. Colonel perked up at the sound of his voice and nudged me along. I followed suit and joined the Lieutenant on the bed. We sat and played with Colonel a while before he had decided we'd ogled him enough and curled up on the floor rug.

"When does your dad get home?" I asked offhandedly. I could feel Maes tense beside me.

"He won't." he looked down at his hands. "Dad left us when I was about ten. Just… at random. Didn't say a word. We just woke up and he wasn't there. He had taken his stuff and everything. We never saw from him or heard from him again."

"O-oh." I mumbled. "Sorry… I didn't know."

"It's alright. I'm used to it." he sighed, relaxing a little. "Life's not perfect, hunh? Best we can do is learn from it. I'm gonna be the best dad ever. I swear I'll never abandon my kids. Hell, I'll smother 'em and be damn proud about it!" he laughed and reclined on the mattress. "What about you? You never talk about your folks."

"My parents?" I sighed absently. I stared at the windowsill were small pictures in oval frames were arranged in clusters. One showed a young Maes, pouting at the camera and pulling down a strap of his lederhosen. The next was of Colonel as a puppy, being held by a laughing Maes with a man who I assumed was his father smiling beside him. The last was of the young family, Colonel curled up by Maes' feet. His mother sat to the side of him, resting her head on her husbands' shoulder. They looked so happy, so in love. Love. That was the missing element. This place, this house, felt like a home. This felt like the family that I so eagerly thirsted for. Even without a father, there was such a sense of completeness. I hugged an embroidered pillow to my chest.

"I don't remember my parents." I said truthfully. "My aunt came to visit because she hadn't heard from her brother in a while. The house was half destroyed and I was there by myself, so she took me in. No one's seen my parents since. We just assumed they died…" Maes sat up again, concern written all over his features. "It's okay though, I guess." I added. I didn't want his pity. "Mom's good to me. We're a little distant, but that's alright. Family is family. I just wish she'd talk about them. My parents, I mean. I've asked for so long, but she'll never say. She showed me a picture though, once. It was a long time ago, though, so I don't really remember much." I forced a smile, hoping it would stave off Maes' worries.

"Is that why you enlisted?" he asked softly. "To try and get out and find them?"

I paused. "I never really thought about it that way. I mean, I believe that they're out there somewhere. Especially if Mom won't talk about them. But… " I took a steadying breath. "Quite honestly… we don't have much money." I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. I had never admitted so much to anyone, outside of Riza. "I never went to public school. Academy was the first school I attended. Master taught me all the basics."

"Master?" he sounded alarmed.

"Ah, yeah. He's… well he's Riza Hawkeye's father. He taught me alchemy." I said quietly.

"You're an alchemist?" there was genuine awe there. I nodded, embarrassed.

"I can only do small stuff. My specialty is fire, though. That was Master's favorite, so I learned that the most. He wasn't very happy that I was going to Academy, but I didn't know how to make money as an alchemist. Not like that, anyway. If I could heal people, then maybe… but…" I sighed. "That's just not the case. So I turned to the military. I knew they'd accept me automatically, no questions asked. I wasn't looking for _my_ family… I was just looking for _a_ family. To be a part of something… more. Where I could rely on them and they on me. Something stable and safe. More than just… " 'A whore house' is what I wanted to say. I trembled as Maes pulled me to his chest, kissing my forehead.

"You always have a family here." he whispered. "Remember that, Roy. Mom and I know what it's like to be missing someone with all your heart. You are always welcome." I clung to his shirt, nodding softly and ignoring the stray tears. His arms wrapped around my back and we stayed like that a while longer until Adel's voice drifted up to us from the dining room.

"W-we should go downstairs." I muttered, extracting myself from his grasp reluctantly and wiping at my eyes. "Smells good too."

"Mom's cooking is superb." Maes smiled, helping me off the bed and heading to the door. He paused, waiting for me. "Hey Roy, I almost forgot to ask. What would you like for Christmas?"

I walked over to him and straightened his shirt where I had rumpled it. "You've understood me and were there for me when I needed it. You've offered me the one thing I've desired more than anything. What more could I ask of you?" We stood in his doorway staring into each other's private heart. Hesitantly, he moved in and kissed me. Adel called to us once again, but we didn't go down until Colonel nosed us out of the way. Laughing, we parted and went down to dinner, hearts a little lighter. Needless to say, Maes didn't have to sleep on the couch that night.


	6. Sacred Things

**As a reminder, the POV will change from chapter to chapter. This is not a complete story but a compilation of short stories. The following chapter is from Edward's perspective.**

5th Christmas

1909 - Risembool

_Sacred Things_

When teacher had dropped us off in Risembool the sky had been a bright blue and the sheep were slowly regrowing their wooly coats. It was 'hotter than hell' as Granny Pinako would say and Al and I were uncomfortably warm while on the platform. Teacher tried to talk us out of being alone one last time before she departed with a lopsided grin and the promise of a return visit. Using the excuse of people waiting for us, we watched the big black train chug away into the afternoon sun. It wasn't that it was a lie - Pinako and Winry sure were anxious to see us again - but they weren't the same as a real family. And it surely wasn't the reason we wanted to be left alone. We bristled with excitement as we picked up our bags and started to race home.

We had come back with all the knowledge we had sought. Alchemic wonders that would finally help to decipher dad's forgotten notes and journals. The ability to transmute more than just playthings and knick-knacks. Maybe, just maybe, we could bring mom back. That summer seemed so long ago, when it had really only been just months. Al and I had been alone in our old house ever since. We came over to see Winry almost every night - pretty much so we didn't starve - then went back to study late into the night. School had been a huge pain. I was in the fifth grade now, and as it was organized in Risembool, it was pretty much pointless. We had just started to learn mathematics for the first time. Sheep weren't the only slow things around these parts. But Al and I used our school hours well, taking handfuls of notes to work on rather than doing class work. Mom would be a better teacher when we got her back anyhow, and it felt more productive than writing out timetables.

I snuggled up on the couch, wrapped in blankets and staring out the window. I never did well with cold, same as mom. Something about poor circulation. Al had gone outside to go give Winry her basket back. Earlier it had held the last bits of biscuits and juice that had become our morning meal. It was empty now and I had hid the milk bottles so that brother wouldn't complain at me. It made me feel a little bit sneaky. I smiled a little as I waited for him to return. For once we weren't down in dad's secret study, and it was making me feel antsy. We should be working hard, using every scrap of time possible. The sooner we got mom back the sooner things could return to normal, and frankly things were pretty tough as it was. Not that I'd let Granny or Winry know. They'd whisk us away and distract us from our mission. I groaned and rolled over. Al was taking forever and it had started to rain. If he got pneumonia I was gonna kick his ass. The last thing we needed was for one of us to get sick. Not only did it get in the way of working, but… well, it was just plain scary after what had happened to mom. Now we got scared over small head colds. Secretly though I wondered if Al was trying to catch sick out there so that we could slow down our pace a little. I could kinda be a slave driver when I wanted to be, not that I'd ever admit to it.

I itched to do something productive. It was driving Al and I both insane knowing that we were on the verge of figuring everything out. We'd been testing our theories on small animals. We had been able to revive a baby bluebird, but it had died again a few hours later. I scooted down onto the carpet and pulled out a worn stick of chalk, doodling transmutation circles on the coffee table. Mom could yell at me about it later. We had tried so many different variations: the hardest part was not knowing which parts worked and which didn't. Brother swore I was gonna go bald early from how often I pulled at my hair. I couldn't help it! It was frustrating.

I drew a simple form, conjuring flames. It was certainly one of the most useful things that we had learned from teacher, even after our little 'island adventure' had forced us to do it the manual way. Alchemy was so much easier. I warmed my hands with the tiny light. It looked kinda like there was an invisible candle. Fire had always been something that fascinated me. Brother said it was because most of my alchemy came out metallic while his came out earthy and wooden. Said that it was only natural that fire melt metal. He was right, but I always thought that it was silly.

After I minute I growled. What WAS taking Al so damned long? It used to be that he was out gathering firewood, but those days had long passed. Now we just used simple circles to build a fire in the same spot on dad's floor. It had become so charcoal black that we had dubbed it 'the fire pit'. Then, as if summoned, the door blew open, letting in a gust of freezing cold air along with my brother. He fought to push the door back closed and stood shivering on the rug.

"I-it's SO cold out there." he jittered.

"No kidding!" I yelped, putting out my fire. "What were you doing out for so long you nut job?! We have work to do! And it's _freaking_ cold. Don't let it back in here." A cold Ed is never a happy Ed. That's one thing that should ALWAYS be dually noted. He saw my grumpy frown and chose not to argue.

"S-sorry brother…" he had a weird look on his face as he went to kick off his boots. I squinted suspiciously at him.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaal? What did you do?"

"Hunh?" he jumped, blushing and nervous.

"What took ya so long, hunh? What'd ya do?" It was annoying that I had to look up at him. I was just a little over a year older and he was STILL taller than me!

"N-nothing. Just talked to Winry and gave her her basket back. T-that's all! Honest!"

"_Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal_?" He scooted away from me as I went to pin him against the nearest wall. I might have been short, damnit, but I could still kick his ass down the road and back. Or at least _pretend_ that I could. He laughed his nervous giggle and took off his scarf, making his tummy move awkwardly. "Al." I blinked, looking at it. "Did your tummy just _squeak_?"

"Uuuh… maybe! I'm kinda hungry."

"Uh hunh."

"No really! Uhm… maybe we should heat up some soup? Ya know, now that we can make fire and all it should be easy."

"I think we should have whatever you've got in your shirt!" I shot back, flexing my fingers menacingly.

"No! You can't eat them!" Al gasped, looking horrified. I grinned my best shit-eating grin. Al paled a little. "I-I mean…"

"You fell for it!" I smirked. "Now what the hell is it? Get it outta your clothes." My brother stood in the entryway awkwardly before shuffling forward and putting two small bundles on the couch. I peered over interestedly. The lumps were pure white and half-drowned looking. "Those better not be rats…" I said dubiously.

"No way!" he frowned, sitting beside the lumps. "They're kittens."

"A-_al_! You know we can't keep 'em!"

"But they were cold and hungry looking-"

"Take 'em back out where you found them!"

"They were all alone and crying-"

"They're probably somebody's anyway! You can't take them without permission!"

"But one's blind." He looked up at me with tears filling up in those hazel eyes of his. "Please brother? Can't we just take care of them? For a little while? They may not make it…" I stared back at the pitiful little cats, not able to look Al in the face. He was such a bleeding heart. It wasn't that I didn't want to take care of the things, I just didn't want Al to get attached. Poor kid was probably attached already. I sighed.

"Okay Al, we can keep the cats. But only for the night, ya got it? Then we're putting 'em right back outside where you found them!"

"REALLY?!" I could tell he had only heard half of what I said. I groaned inside.

"Yeah, really Al. Now find them some towels or something. They need to dry off first or they'll still freeze to death."

"O-okay!" he beamed, racing off. Halfway down the hall he paused. "What should we name 'em?"

"WHAT?! We're not _naming_ them Al! You'll get attached!" He pouted for a second before scrambling to the hall closet, rooting around for some suitable cloths. I shook my head and picked up one of the kittens. It flailed for a moment before huddling into the warmth of my palm. They really were tiny. I bit my lip and held the thing to my chest, wincing as pin-sharp claws looked for steady footing against my chest. The whole kitten was no bigger than my hand, and for being only ten, that was kinda saying something. The other kitten popped up, it's ears flushed pink from the cold. It looked up at me sadly and cried.

"Is it okay?" Al called from the other room.

"Uh… yup!" I answered, not sure what to do about it. The kitten continued to mewl. Not knowing what else to do, I picked it up and sat it next to its sibling and the two cuddled together.

"They really rely on each other, don't they?" Al said brightly, sitting on the edge of the coffee table with a small wad of towels on his lap. He took both kittens from me and gently laid them on the cloth, moving it over their tiny bodies until the fur stood poofed out on end.

"They looked electrocuted." I said.

"Brother, that's wrong."

"What? They do…" We watched them as they crawled back to each other again. "They're probably hungry or something." I added, getting up from the couch. The kitchen was in a state of explosion. There were dishes everywhere, mainly because I was either too short or too lazy to reach into the upper cabinets. But once again, I'd never openly admit to that. I reached behind the bread box and pulled out a bottle of milk that had been stashed out of sight. Unsure of how much the little cats would drink, I grabbed a random china bowl from the counter and brought it into the living room, pouring a generous amount into its printed face. The kittens perked up and squirmed, fumbling over to the saucer.

The first took a few shaky steps, running it's side against the other's face. I sighed and separated them a little, but the first kitten went back and repeated the movement. "Maybe it's special." I grumbled, trying to wedge the two apart.

"Wait brother." Al frowned. "I think it's trying to do something." Lo and behold it went back to its who shakily rose to its paws and padded beside it's sibling, keening it's head so that it's whiskers continued to run along the other's pelt. We watched in amazement as it followed the other, waiting for every cue. When it reached the bowl the first kitten sat, nuzzling sideways against its sibling who fell over before rolling into a sit. Slowly it keened its head into the saucer, and for the first time I noticed that it's blue eyes were almost as light as the milk in the bowl.

"It really _is_ blind, isn't it?" I stared.

"Yeah." Al breathed. "Pretty amazing hunh? They're so little and they already know how to help each other."

"Mn hmn… they're too young to really get anything going on around them, but they still depend on each other to get by…" I looked over at my brother, who was gently petting them with his fingertips. Kinda like us, hunh Al? We were too little to get much either, but that sure didn't stop us from trying. I needed him as much as he needed me, too. I wondered if we ever looked like those kittens to other people, adults especially. Two little boys without their mother, trying to live on their own in their big empty house. The last thing I wanted was pity, but I couldn't help but realize how dependent we had become on each other over the years since mom's death. I would keep him focused and set on our task, and he would teach me how to relax once and a while and enjoy the little things. Enjoy life. We really did need each other in the end; like the kittens we worked better as a unit than as two kids grasping at straws on their own.

I leaned back in my seat and smiled, closing my eyes as the sound of excited purrs floated through the air. As much as everything sucked, I was glad that I still had Al by my side. He really did make things bearable, even if he did get underfoot at times. We had been through the worst together: when dad up and left us, when mom was crying over him when she thought we weren't around to hear it, when mom eventually died, and even when Winry found out her parents weren't ever coming back. I really didn't know how I'd make it without him. I remembered back when he was just my annoying kid brother and I never wanted to play with him. I'd smack him over the head and leave him alone at home with mom so I could play with the other kids. Or when we'd play hide and seek and I would just ditch him. It was really only years but it felt like AGES ago. A lot had changed since those days. I couldn't imagine hurting him like that now.

I heard the smooth sound of chalk and a little pop as Al started a fire, and soon the house felt warm and musty in the nice way. Like how it used to be every winter, when mom would sit by the fire and stoke it, knitting us scarves and crocheting blankets. That smell was always followed by baking bread and curling cinnamon. The sharp scent of fir trees and sap and crisp oranges that mom would send us out to buy from the market. The crinkle of paper and bows, of tissue. The sweet taste of sugar… and before I even knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.

I awoke at a pounding at the front door. The alchemic fire had burned away to dead ash and the kittens were curled up asleep in the table top, nuzzled in blankets. Al perked up from his book - the only one who hadn't nodded off apparently - as I went to answer the door. I winced instantly as the chilly air hit my skin. Outside was a boy with messy brown hair and flushed cheeks. He was a little younger than me, so I didn't recall his name, but he looked on the edge of tears.

"H-hey there." he shivered. "I'm so sorry to intrude, I know it's Christmas Eve and all."

_'It is?' _I thought, shocked. Since mom died, everything had been a blur. Al and I hadn't paid much mind to holidays or birthdays.

"But it's really cold out here and our family cat just had kittens. We're missing two of them, and in this weather I can't find them anywhere. Have you seen them?" That pleading tone reminded me of Al. I turned back into the house to look at said sibling. He looked ready to cry too. Determinedly he picked up the kittens in their towel and handed them over to the little boy. He gasped and clutched the kittens to his chest, thanking us both before running off down the hill. I sighed and shut the door. Al was trying to wipe away his tears without me noticing.

"It's okay, Al." I said, leading him back into the room.

"I know. They got back home safe 'n all…" he choked.

"See? I told ya they had a home."

"Just because there's a home doesn't mean it's a good one!" he bit back. I blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at us! We've got a home, don't we? But it's empty and lonely and I hate it! I hate it here Ed! It's too big for the two of us and it's scary at night. It doesn't feel like home anymore. There's no mom, there's no summer vegetables out in the garden anymore, or home cooked meals, or laundry out to dry! There's nothing anymore. This place is a house, but it's not a home anymore."

I stepped back, head reeling. "Al… That's why we've gotta make things right. That's why we're gonna bring mom back. We're gonna make this a home again and have a family and have Christmas EVERY year. I promise." I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. I hated seeing Al cry. It made me feel so guilty, even if it wasn't my fault. I really did want to bring mom back for him. Just for Al. He had been too young to remember dad. What he looked like, what he sounded like, the feel of his big hugs. I barely could, but enough that I felt an empty abandonment from his absence. I didn't want that for Al. I didn't want him to be without mom and feel alone like that. I gathered my resolve. "I said we were like those kittens and I believe it too! We gotta keep working together just like we are now. Even without all of that stuff, so long as we have each other it's still a home!"

Al faltered, then hugged me, squeezing me tight around the middle. "I'm sorry brother, you're right. It… it's just so _hard_. I know you hate this too, and I know you try. I'm just so scared."

"Why are you scared?" I asked, petting his short hair, only vaguely noticing that it was what mom used to do to calm us.

"W-Well… what if this doesn't work? What if we screw up?"

"That's why we're trying so hard. We're making sure it'll work."

"But…" he buried his face in my neck. "But what if I screw up? Will you hate me?"

"Al… " I frowned lightly, pulling back to look at him. "I can't hate you, you're my little brother. 'Sides, if anyone screws up, it'll be _my_ fault, got it? No blaming yourself, okay? It's not like I'm gonna just leave you. I wouldn't leave ya for anything."

"Would you leave me if I made you drink milk?"

"YES!"

"Brother!" his eyes welled up again.

"Sheesh, just kidding!" I pouted, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry so much, okay? We'll figure this out, or we aren't Elrics!"

"O-okay." he laughed meekly.

"And Al?" I added. "One day I'll get you a kitten and you can keep it for real."

"You promise?" he sniffled.

"Definitely. I promise." The road ahead looked hard, but that was at least one thing that I was determined to do.


	7. Scars Are Healing

**As a reminder, the POV will change from chapter to chapter. This is not a complete story but a compilation of short stories. The following chapter is from Maes' perspective.**

6th Christmas

1910 - East City

_Scars Are Healing_

The wind howling in my ear, I shifted my weight, awkwardly trying to balance the groceries while I fumbled for my keys. The sky above was grey and fleeced with clouds. I hoped it wouldn't rain. Turning the lock, I stepped into my flat. From the entryway it looked immaculately clean, which was always a good thing I had supposed. But when things are too sterile it's generally for the worst, and that was true of home too. It was the way in which we'd been living this past year, those of us veterans lucky enough to come home out of a casket. Came home laughing and singing, hugging on loved ones and kicking up small talk with neighbors. As if nothing had happened and everything was the way it had been before. But it wasn't true. That war had touched each and every one of us. The proof of it was literally right around the corner.

"I'm home!" I called, maneuvering into the next room. I laid my bags down on the kitchen counter - which was more of a kitchenette in all fairness, seeing as it was so small - and turned to look at him. Him. The poor devil that I had brought home with me. The one whose face and heart I remembered so dearly, but who's soul and will had been left on the battlefield. He sat in the adjoining room on my reclining arm chair, wrapped in a blue blanket and staring blankly off into space.

"How're ya doing?" I asked amicably. I was sure to leave the worry out of my voice. It had been like this for a year, after all, so I _was_ used to it. He continued staring a while before blinking dazedly and turning to look at me.

"I'm fine." he said. Said in that damn tone. There were only two expressions to his voice these days: emotionless and formal or childish and desperate.

"That's good." I replied cheerfully. I was still worried. I would be until I saw him smile again. That seemed like a long way off. "Do anything while I was out?"

"No."

"Maybe you should try something. Read a book or something. Watch the kids play outside. Maybe even decorate - this is Christmas Eve, after all."

"With what?" he asked, ignoring my other commentary. Now he was staring at the floor.

"I dunno… there's bound to be tons of useless junk around here that can count for something. Apple?" I didn't wait for him to reply, scooping one out of my bag and tossing it to him. It landed squarely in his lap as I moved into the room to join him.

"Junk?" he repeated.

"Yeah, sure. Stuff from my old house, stuff I've found. Doubt you brought anything from your place, so…"

"What's there to bring from a brothel?" he looked uninterestedly at the apple, rolling it between his palms.

"Girls and warm beer." I grinned. "And both are fine where you came from." He rolled his eyes and for a second I felt like I had the real him back. "But really… we should do something around here. Together."

He looked up at me with suddenly innocent eyes. Black hopeful eyes that he hated so much. I swore he wasn't all Amestrian. "Together?" That word always seemed to cheer him up.

"Sure, why not?" I smiled, ruffling his hair a little. "I mean, it won't be anything too fancy - we haven't got a tree for one - but at least it'll be nice and homey. I suppose there's no surprising you with it this year."

"Please, I'm not a child anymore." he hummed. "Not that mom had the time to surprise me with a tree. If anything, then the girls and I decorated it together."

"How foreign of you." I laughed. I had heard it was a tradition across the pond. Strange. "Well I didn't go shopping for nothing..." I admitted sheepishly. "I kind of planned on spicing this place up. Come look." We wandered back into the 'kitchen' and I continued emptying the groceries. "I bought a lot of apples and some hard candy too. There's a variety of nuts in that bag - mainly almonds - and there's a few oranges, lemons, and citrons that we can candy to make lebkuchen with. I already bought the white sausage and ham so we don't have to worry about that."

"And the goose?" he asked.

"Getting that tonight. Figured I'd get it fresh for Christmas tomorrow." he replied, handing him a generous stick of marzipan.

"And reisbrei?"

"We can make that as well." I smiled, putting the rest of the foodstuffs away. "Come upstairs now; let's see if we can find my old decorations." I headed up the narrow stairwell with him trailing at my feet. There was a short hallway that led to our bedroom. I nudged the door open and strode across the room to the small loft above the still-bed-frame-less mattress that laid dejectedly on the floor. With ease I scaled up the ladder and hoisted myself into the ledge, coughing as dust went flying up in plumes. "Hey Roy?" I called, brushing a layer of the stuff off of a wooden chest.

"Hmn?"

"I'm gonna need to bring some of this stuff down, it's too cramped to work up here."

"Yes, I'll help." he replied knowingly. His voice sounded a little more distant than it had been just minutes ago. I frowned as I set about my task of sorting boxes. I supposed I wasn't trying hard enough to win the old him back. Wasn't doing enough to pull him from the hellish world that he would wake in cold sweats from, the very one he would immerse himself in the second things became too quiet.

I thumbed my chin thoughtfully. It was getting prickly again and Roy was sure to complain about it. He usually did when it got like this, saying that it was too tickly when I would kiss him. Personally, I found the whole scenario to be rather cute - an oddity for him these days. I peered over the ledge and watched him stare at the baseboards. His eyes wandered, following imaginary people as they ran, wincing when they met some end. It was yet another side effect that he had developed, those hallucinations. They were almost like memories burned into his retinas and refusing to fade out like old photographs. They were almost always there for Roy. I rubbed my face again. By now he probably wouldn't even notice the beard forming.

With a sigh I shook myself from my thoughts and lugged two boxes to the edge, gently lowering them down to my slightly-more-aware boyfriend. We set them down on the floor and removed the lids, pawing around for hidden Christmas treasures. "Hey look! Trains!" I grinned, setting the painted toys beside me. "Mom used to hang these on our tree every year." Roy smiled briefly and continued rummaging through the box nearest to him. I watched intently, looking for any signs of my old friend and lover. He removed several strands of silvery tinsel before finding a cluster of tapers. He stared at them apprehensively before shoving them in my direction.

"You can light them." he muttered, already buried in our find once more. It figured that he wouldn't like candles. Would fear them to an extent. I stroked their red waxy forms and set them aside, making a mental note to light cinnamon sticks simultaneously so that the smell of flames didn't overwhelm him. When I looked up again he had already emptied the container: small black cars, tin angels, miniature nutcrackers, and brass harps and horns strewn all about him. Taking a length of twine I threaded some of the ornaments together, forming a make-shift garland of sorts. Roy watched silently, scooping up the miniature toys and setting them sporadically throughout the house. I watched him go as I finished my project, now tying the twine in simple bows around each red taper.

We had learned to appreciate the little things, I supposed, although it didn't take much to beat the last holiday. We had sat huddled in my tent, enjoying the brief respite with anxious breath, as the heady scent of gunpowder still lingered overhead. We shared a blanket that night, with Roy curled up at my side, unashamed of being seen and more than a little satiated with whiskey. Riza, his childhood friend had even visited with us too, petting her best friend's hair and mending our uniforms while we talked. She had brought the liquor for once. The thought had boggled my mind. A young woman not even in her senior year of Academy sitting before us on the frontlines, pouring us shots of whiskey and reclining with her shotgun. Only 17, and Roy a mere 18. It was eerie, but that was war. We drank until the sky began to lighten again, still clouded with ash and powder. Laid together in my tent, listening to men sing in lilting, drunken tones outside, staring up at where the stars would be if we could see them. It had been such a long time since there were stars. It was alien and dead here. I rolled over and reached for a tin, sharing my secret stash of holiday chocolates that some kind heart had sent to us. Roy curled against me, just as he had when we were both back safe at home. My heart lurched, wishing that he at least could be home celebrating. Safe. Innocent. None of us were now. He sat up and lit a cig with a brush of his hand, drawing hard as we reminisced, drowning out the war with the smell of tobacco. It, at least, was familiar and more favorable. There were few nights like that one.

A shout from downstairs stirred me from my reverie. I gathered the decorations and sprinted back into the living room. Roy was standing at the window, stalk-still with the curtain in one hand and wonder dancing in his eyes. Those beautiful, black eyes. "Snow." he breathed, feeling my presence behind him. I laughed, all tension gone.

"A little late for being the first of the year." I commented dryly. It had been an odd year for sure. It was like the seasons had yet to recover from the war that had just raged on our Eastern doorstep, shocked into submission and hesitant action. "I guess this means we can look forward to a wet new year." I laced the garland around the banister and set the tapers in clusters of three upon the mantle. All the while Roy stood transfixed. There was a strange look on his features, as if there was a concept that he couldn't quite grasp.

Leaving him to his wonderment, I went back into the kitchen, removing the fine china from its curio and setting the ornate set upon a table. A feast for two was a lonely thing indeed. I began to candy the citrus I had bought, peeling and scraping the fruit as I watched the snowfall from the small window beside the stove. After a while the flakes grew larger and fluffier, no longer the sludgy sleet that had first rained down. Fruit candied to perfection, I began to separate eggs whites into a bowl, whipping them with ease until they became the perfect stiffness. By the time I had transformed them into icing and had poured a variety of ingredients into a heated pot of honey, the snow was driving even harder. After a few more minutes of kneading and rolling, I cleared off the spare scrap of counter left and began preparing for the rice pudding. With a sigh I wandered back into the living room, wiping my hands off on my pants, succeeding in getting flour all over the front of me.

"Hey Roy, do you want to help with the reisbrei … or… not." I trailed off, scanning the room. No tuft of black hair poking out behind blankets, no curled up form in my armchair. Feeling a bit lost I wandered throughout the flat, calling for him to no answer. "Roy, I know you like dazing sometimes but please answer!" I groaned, turning on heel in what was probably a really childish manner. A dark blur outside the window caught my eye. "Oh…" My breath felt stolen away. Without thinking, I dashed outside and raced around the side of the flat were the building ended and an expanse of land ran into a cluster of dense brush.

There he was, kneeling in a good few inches of snow, soaked to the bone and wearing little more than flannel pants and a cotton shirt. His face upturned to the sky he looked to me like some sad fallen angel, his skin porcelain and strangely pale despite the biting wind and cold. "What are you doing?" I gasped, grabbing his shoulders. His eyes blinked open, staring deep into my own as if seeing past me into another world.

"Don't you know what this is?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah, it's snow you moron. Now get inside before you freeze to death! How long have you been -"

"It's not snow." he interjected, holding his palms out so that small flakes would collect and melt in his hands. "It's human."

"Human?" I countered.

"Yes… don't you remember this? This smell? The feel of it as it hits your skin? The terrible slickness of it on your fingertips? Don't you remember when the fires burned and the fat that remained came down from the chimneys, from the broken towers, and slickened our tents and our guns? Almost like snow. What a terrible joke…"

I stood speechless. That world of terror had never penetrated his mind so far before. So far that now even his mind said that he was elsewhere. Away from me. "So you wade in it?" I queried.

"I have sinned."

"You're not religious."

"I know. But the price is still the same." He continued kneeling as the flakes clung to his hair, the water dripping into his face and rolling down his neck. Like a poor, sad angel. I scooped him up into my arms bridal style and carried him back in the house, depositing him on the couch. He sat mutely as I wiped him down with towels and brought him a fresh exchange of clothes. For once not minding the psychological affects, I lit the fireplace and soon the house was swathed in warmth. I sat beside him curiously, holding his frozen hand in mine. After a while he began to shake as his body registered the temperature difference. He whimpered and buried his face in my chest, clinging to my shirt.

One day he'd be stronger than this. Over this. I gazed at his prostrate form and curled him against me, rocking ever so slightly. "Maes…?" he pulled back, eyes imploring and desperate. "Maes, fuck me. Hard. Show me that I'm still human. Let me know that my heart's still beating."

"No." I said softly. "Not now, not like this." I brushed a wet strand of hair away from his face, planting a gentle kiss on his lips as he whimpered. "Do you hear my heartbeat, Roy?" I asked, pressing him to my chest. After a minute he nodded, still clinging tightly. "This heart beats for _you_ Roy. You and you alone. And I promise you that it will not stop until I have made you better. Until I've chased away every last nightmare and you can breathe freely again. Until you can smile like you always did and be that boy that I fell in love with back in New Brisden."

"I don't think I'll ever be that Roy again…" he whispered.

"No…" I sighed. "Maybe you won't. But similar; happier again, but much wiser. You're human, Roy. Every time that we're together and I see that old light in your eyes, that you hug me, that you kiss me… I feel a warmth like no other. Your love is what has rallied me when little else will. It's what gets me through the day and I promise you that I will do the same and will stay by your side for always."

"For always?" he repeated, hope drenching his words.

"I promise you forever." I breathed, ghosting a kiss on his forehead.

"… Till death do we part?" he muttered, a faint tinge dusting his cheeks. I smiled at the sight and kissed him soundly.

"Till death do we part so long as we both shall live." We lay in contented silence a while more, wrapped in blankets and each other as the gentle smell of cooking lebkuchen filled the house and we drifted off to sleep.


End file.
